


#5: Always Use "We" When Referring to Your Home Team or Your Government

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Minor Illness, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2379818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint watches sports on TV while Phil naps, under the weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#5: Always Use "We" When Referring to Your Home Team or Your Government

“Who’s winning?” Phil asked sleepily from where he was propped up against Clint’s shoulder. His eyes were closed, though the sleep had done little to erase the dark circles under his eyes. Clint knew that if he opened them they would be red rimmed and showing signs of pain from the sinus headache and pressure that were the hallmarks of the sinus infection Phil had developed on the last mission. 

“Chicago,” Clint answered, using his fingertips of his right hand to card through the hair at the base of Phil’s skull, while his left played Angry Birds on mute on his StarkPad. The game was on for background noise, something to help Phil rest and not drive Clint crazy for the silence.

“S’posed to say ‘we,’” Phil muttered, sniffing as he shifted slightly.

“Am I?” Clint asked lightly, going back to the light massage of Phil’s neck. 

“Mm,” Phil hummed in agreement. “Home team.”

“Do you even know what sport we’re watching right now?” Clint teased. It didn’t really matter; Phil always rooted for Chicago if they were playing. Clint didn’t really care one way or another. He liked watching sports well enough, but he wasn’t enough of a fan to have a favorite team. 

Phil snuffled again and slid down a bit, his head coming to rest against Clint’s chest instead of his shoulder. It couldn’t be comfortable, but Clint wouldn’t leave him there too long before he chivvied them both off to bed. “Foo’ball,” Phil muttered drowsily.

“Give the man a gold star,” Clint teased, dropping a kiss to the top of Phil’s head.


End file.
